


Viva Forever

by SabrielandOrangeJuice



Series: Viva Forever [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Heaven AU?, M/M, Universe Alterations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabrielandOrangeJuice/pseuds/SabrielandOrangeJuice
Summary: A slight AU where Laurens died earlier in the revolution and Hamilton didn't meet Eliza until later.I know it's Major Character Death but it's not sad I promise.





	Viva Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to this for maximum feels
> 
> https://youtu.be/3wkuqRFXNvI

John felt the bullet hit and for a moment there was only excruciating pain.  His eyes must have closed for he could see nothing.  He could hear nothing, sense nothing, only the pain.

 

A second later, or maybe a year, it began to fade.  Thoughts returned, though his senses still evaded him, and John knew he was going to die.  Some men recovered from being shot, if a doctor could stave off the infection, there was hope, but John knew he would not be one of the lucky ones.

 

He was not scared, so much as disapointed.  He thought of all the things he had not managed to do.  He thought of his father.  He had never wanted him to join the war in the first place.  He had wanted him to become a lawyer, probably follow him into public service.  John had hoped to prove him wrong.  He hoped he’d still made him proud.

 

He thought of the troops he’d meant to command.  The black battalion he had hoped to create.  He thought of the slaves his father had promised to release into his service, and then to freedom once the war was won.  The thousands of other slaves he might have secured a similar fate for.  What would become of them now?  Would another take up the torch?

 

He thought of Hamilton the first time they’d met.  The man’s instant support for his dream of arming the slaves and freeing them.  The hours spent writing together.  Letters and missives for the general, essays for themselves.

 

The instant connection.  The affection that burnt so bright in the both them.  The hope that this would never end.  The fear that it would.

 

The stolen moments in their tent.  The whispered secrets late at night, when they would both have been better served sleeping.  The early mornings.  Alexander would always rise first, then crouch by his cot to wake him.

 

_ “John, open your eyes.  Wake up John.” _

 

_ “Stay with us John, we’re taking you back to a doctor.” _

 

_ He opened his eyes, and the pain returned full force.  His friends were carrying him.  Shots still rang out all around.  It felt like a dream.  He was still alive for now, but it hurt so much.  He wanted to go back.  Back to Hamilton.  Back to the first time they’d kissed. _

 

It was one of those early mornings in winter.  The sun had not yet risen, and snow must have been falling outside.  The world was so quiet, so peaceful.  Alexander was crouching by his cot illuminated by the candle he carried.  He was so close, and looking at him as one might look at the moon.  As if John was the most wondrous and beautiful thing.  It had been so natural to close the distance between them.

 

It was dangerous, of course it was.  They would be dismissed at the least if anyone found out.  John would be disowned.  If someone caught them the best they could hope for was to be reduced to nothing, to live in destitution for the rest of their lives.

 

But John had always been reckless.  Always fought for what he believed in and damn the consequences.  And John believed in Hamilton.  He had no fear that Alexander would reject him.  Indeed the man only smiled, kissed him once more, and urged him to get ready: the general was expecting them.

 

It became a ritual.  Hamilton would forego words and wake him with a kiss.  A morning gift to put them both in good spirits.  It was Alexander that expanded their ritual to the nights.  A kiss in the morning and a kiss before bed, to bracket the day, he had explained.

 

The first time they had lain together was John’s first night back in their tent after being injured at Brandywine.  Their bedtime kiss had been unlike any they had shared before.  Hard and desperate where the others had been soft and chaste.  Filled with the worry they had both felt, that they would not get to spend another night together.

 

They had retreated to their cots afterwards, hands clasped across the void between them, and Hamilton had whispered to him

 

_ “Stay with me Laurens.” _

 

_ He opened his eyes again to a doctors surgery.  His friends were gone, and a man with a green sash stood over him.  The pain was duller this time; probably the doctors work. _

 

_ “I’m doing everything I can.  Just stay with us Mr Laurens.” _

 

_ The man kept talking, but John tried to drown him out.  Tried to fill his mind with thoughts of Hamilton, to float back into that sweet oblivion. _

 

_ After a time the doctor's voice grew quieter, and this time John closed his eyes he knew it was for the last time. _

 

He saw his family as they were delivered the news of his death, watching them as if through a veil.  He saw his sisters weep as his father read the letter aloud.

 

He saw Hamilton read his name on a missive of the dead sent to the General.  Saw the man struggle to hold his composure, and later saw the tears fall as he penned a letter.  The last letter he would write to John Laurens.

 

_ You swore you would stay with me _ .

 

John tried to reach out to him, to talk to him one last time.

 

Take your time my friend.  Live Forever.  Find another to live by your side and achieve greatness.  I’ll be waiting.

 

 

He saw Hamilton meet Elizabeth Schuyler.  It was years later.  It was only a moment.  He cheered with the others at their wedding; saw Hamilton win the war in time to meet his son.

 

He saw him rise through society, building a nation at Washington’s side.  He saw the affair, Hamilton’s fatal flaw, his ruin, and wished he could have been there to push him back on track.

 

He greeted Hamilton’s son.  Looked after him as he knew he would have wanted.  Heard the stories Alexander would tell his children of his greatest, bravest friend, and thought perhaps he had done more with his life than he realised.

 

He saw the election of 1800.  The duel.  He knew the moment Hamilton saw him again after so many years.

 

Welcome home my friend.  You achieved so much.  You deserved so much more, but you’re here with me now.

 

He knew he was surrounded by the others Hamilton loved, his family.  He saw him turn, and knew he was wishing the same for Eliza as John had for him.  He couldn’t wait to meet her, but for now his Alexander was here.  Back with him forever.


End file.
